


One of Those Days

by QueenOfRohirrim



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anger, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Drama, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Lambert needs a hug, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Papa Vesemir to the rescue, Self-Hatred, brief mention of suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:14:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23960638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfRohirrim/pseuds/QueenOfRohirrim
Summary: Lambert is feeling a lot worse than usual, and he drops into one of his rages.It’s the first time Jaskier has witnessed him like this.
Relationships: Eskel & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Lambert, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Lambert, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Lambert & Vesemir (The Witcher)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 390





	One of Those Days

**Author's Note:**

> So I feel like, even though he and Vesemir do argue a lot and Lambert is really resentful of him at times, he’s probably the one of the three brothers who really needs Dad the most. Is that just me?

Geralt was awake and already dressed when Jaskier finally began to stir from his slumber.

“Good morning, darling.” The bard yawned at the witcher, who sat down on the edge of the bed and handed over a bowl of porridge to him.

“What’s this now?” Jaskier smiled, happily accepting the gift after he’d stretched out the stiffness in his upper body. “You’re bringing me breakfast in bed? Now, I know it’s not my birthday.”

“Hmm.” Geralt grunted, frowning even when Jaskier leaned over to place a appreciative kiss to his cheek. 

The bard noticed this persisting melancholy, of course. Even barely woken it was difficult to miss. 

“Geralt?” He inquired gently. “What’s wrong, my lovely? Talk to me.”

The witcher, as always, with any tough question, had to think deeply for a good long while before he tried to explain. 

Jaskier didn’t mind it. He waited patiently for Geralt to find the appropriate words, tucking into his breakfast while his lover sat near him silently, his face contorted into a frustrated and somewhat pained expression.

“Don’t talk to Lambert today.” He finally muttered. “Don’t even look at him.”

Jaskier raised a brow. “May I ask why, my dear?” He inquired.

“Just don’t.” Geralt sighed back at him. “He’s throwing one of his fits. Stay out of his way.”

Jaskier hummed and nodded, swallowing down a mouthful of porridge. “Is this why I’m enjoying my morning meal under the covers?” He asked.

“Hmm.” Geralt confirmed with a single nod.

“Well...I suppose it was still a thoughtful gesture on your part.” The bard smiled softly, hopeful that he could at least pull Geralt out of his own cheerless mood. “Should I thank you properly once I’ve finished, my love?”

His witcher smiled and gave a short chuckle. “What did you have in mind?”

...

In truth, Jaskier had thought that Geralt’s worries about Lambert were a bit over exaggerated.

The youngest of the witcher pack was a bit difficult, sure. He tended to have bouts of moodiness and could sometimes be a bit harsh, but it was nothing that bothered the bard too much. Plenty of humans struggled with those same traits, after all. It wasn’t a flaw exclusive to witchers.

However, on this particular day, Lambert’s behavior was pushing more toward outrageous than just simply problematic.

The first time Jaskier had encountered the hot tempered wolf that morning, he was passing through the corridor near the doors to Vesemir’s study.

The shouting from within was audible from quite a distance and he couldn’t help but overhear a part of the argument as he walked by.

“Fucking bullshit! All of this! I should have had some common fucking sense and jumped onto a sword a long fucking time ago!” 

“That’s enough of that!” Vesemir had snapped, loudly and angry. Jaskier had never heard the old wolf speak in such a manner.

He hurried on his way down the hall, but he didn’t reach the end before the doors to the study opened behind him and Vesemir was throwing Lambert out of them. 

“You find the sense to realize how foolish you sound!” The old witcher shouted at his pup. “I’ll not speak of nonsense any longer!”

Vesemir disappeared again and the doors were slammed shut while Lambert cursed and threw his fist against them.

Jaskier decided to heed Geralt’s warning, and he ducked into another corridor before Lambert could storm his way.

The next time he saw the enraged witcher, he was stomping around outside in the snow, picking up any stone he could find and throwing them all violently against the crumbling walls around the castle, cursing and shouting into the wind while he did so.

“Geralt?” Jaskier looked to his beloved with great concern as he watched the scene unfold from their window in the tower.

“Leave it.” The silver witcher stopped his bard before anything more could be asked.

“I just think...” Jaskier pushed a bit further, rather upset at the savage display. “Maybe you should try to talk to him?”

“No.” Geralt growled. “Not today.”

...

Later in the afternoon, the white wolf’s hand had been forced.

Jaskier had been helping Vesemir in the greenhouse when the yelling began.

The old wolf had heard it first, of course, turning his head to a sound Jaskier’s human ears weren’t able to allow him.

“Dammit, these children...” Vesemir grumbled under his breath, pulling his working gloves from his hands. “Lad, will you take those herbs to the kitchen? I’ll need to start on supper soon.”

“Yes, of course.” Jaskier nodded, always glad to be of help to the witcher patriarch. 

At this point he hadn’t realized anything was terribly wrong, but as he got closer to the main hall on his way to the kitchens, he could hear the fighting clearly.

“Shut up!” Geralt demanded, his voice raised in warning.

“You gonna make me!? Huh!?” Jaskier wasn’t surprised to hear Lambert’s voice shouting back after everything that had happened that morning. “Let’s go, pretty boy! Hit me! I fucking dare you!”

Geralt did. He smacked his brother with the force of two mounted armies crashing into each other on a field of battle. The sound of it rang in Jaskier’s ears and he couldn’t help himself this time. He had to stop this.

“Geralt!” He cried out, hurrying into the main hall where Eskel was currently grabbing Lambert up from the floor before he could rush to fight back.

“You stupid whore!” The younger witcher was screaming. “Fuck you! Stupid, Mute, Bastard Dickhole!!! I Fucking Hate You!!! ESKEL LET GO!!!” 

“No, come on. You need to calm down.” Eskel somehow managed to keep his head level throughout the whole ordeal, even as he was being kicked and swatted at while he pulled Lambert from the room. 

Vesemir had arrived just in time to push Geralt back from taking another swing at his brother.

“Look at me!” He demanded. “Geralt, let it go. Understand?”

Jaskier gently touched his witcher’s arm, feeling the tension of Geralt’s muscles clenched tight with anger.

His notrils were flared and his breathing was that of an agitated bull as he turned his eyes to his mentor, his father.

“Little rat...” He growled, showing his teeth.

“I know, I know.” Vesemir assured him, placing a hand on Geralt’s shoulder and nudging him in the direction of the dining hall, the opposite way in which Eskel had gone with Lambert. “Sit down and have something to drink. Let’s not dwell on this any longer.”

Jaskier wrapped both of his own arms around Geralt’s and ever so slowly he felt the tension begin to ease under his touch.

At dinner that night, Lambert was not present, and Eskel relayed to Vesemir that he’d gone out to the yard again to whack at some of the training dummies.

“That’s fine.” The old wolf sighed. “Let him alone. He can eat later.”

...

“Did you have to hit him, Geralt?” 

The white haired witcher growled as he undressed to get into bed. “I warned him first.” He insisted.

“Still, you shouldn’t have done it.” Jaskier complained. “He’s obviously upset enough without a literal slap to the face...”

“Little prick deserved it.” Geralt grunted, pulling back the covers and climbing in next to his bard. He wrapped two very large, possessive arms around Jaskier, pressing up close against his back and burying his nose into the crook of his neck.

“If you mean to tell me that he was going off about you and I again, I don’t care.” Jaskier sighed, shutting his eyes when Geralt breathed his scent in deep. 

“You didn’t hear.” His wolf reminded him. “If you had...”

“They’re words, Geralt.” Jaskier assured the witcher, resting his own arms over the ones that held him close. “And anyway, you seem to be quite accustom to these sorts of moods...I’m guessing he’s had them before. Probably long before we ever met. Would that be correct?”

“Hmm.” Geralt hummed, confirming his lover’s theory. “Always. He’s been this way since the beginning...Some days are worse than most.”

“It’s not unheard of for people to have trouble with these sorts of things.” Jaskier promised, catching the unmistakable lament that saturated Geralt’s words. He was saddened for his brother. “And I know Lambert’s not exactly human but I think we all known that witchers do, in fact, have feelings, no matter how hard you all try to deny them...You all went through a lot as children, didn’t you?”

Geralt hummed again and was quiet for a long time after.

“I shouldn’t have hit him.” He admitted just as Jaskier was beginning to doze off in his arms. “I suppose it only made things worse.”

Jaskier opened his eyes and turned his head to kiss his white wolf’s lips. “He’ll forgive you.” He reassured him. “Just give him awhile to calm down, work back into his usual self, and it’ll all be right as rain between you both.”

“Hmm...Love you.” Geralt hummed, pressing another kiss to his mouth.

“I love you too, my darling...Rest easy tonight. Everything will be fine.”

...

Funnily enough, it was Jaskier who was restless that night.

He’d fallen asleep only to wake up an hour later, Geralt breathing softly next to him still, and he realized suddenly that not only was he wide awake, but his throat was also terribly parched.

The trouble was that he’d forgotten to bring any water up to their room that evening, but surely, he reasoned, a short walk down to the kitchens might help to tire him out a little. Soon enough he’d be ready to go back to sleep.

So he slipped carefully out of bed, making sure not to wake the sleeping wolf at his side, and tiptoed out of the door.

Lights were still burning in the corridor at the bottom of the stairs, so Jaskier assumed that Vesemir was still awake somewhere. Probably in his study.

Only then, as he strolled to the end of the hall, he could hear the old wolf’s voice just ahead.

“Don’t do that now, pup.” Vesemir spoke softly to whoever was sitting up with him. “You’re alright. You hear me? You’re alright.”

The sound of a choked off sob followed his words.

Jaskier stopped.

“Hush, lad. There’s no need to fret.” Vesemir continued on, sounding very much like a father trying to soothe a crying infant.

He knew that he probably shouldn’t, but Jaskier couldn’t help but steal a quick peek around the end of the wall that covered him. He didn’t want to barge through to the kitchens and interrupt if this was something serious, and it did sound like it was.

Another sob came from a figure curled up on the couch before the fire, and after a moment Jaskier recognized it to be Lambert.

The witcher was lying with his back to the hearth, his face pressed into the cushions that held him so that no one could see the tears that undoubtedly ran down his face.

Next to him, in his favorite armchair, was Vesemir, sitting forward far enough so that he could reach out to touch his boy’s shoulder. Every once in awhile, the old wolf gave his pup a gentle pat, but otherwise he was just holding onto him, letting Lambert know that he was there.

“It’ll all be forgotten.” He promised as Jaskier turned to go. “You’ll see.”

“I’m sorry...” Lambert huffed through another broken sob. 

“Not your fault.” Vesemir promised.

Jaskier hurried up the stairs again before he accidentally heard anything not meant for his ears. 

He could steal a drink from Eskel’s room. There was no reason to intrude on the others.

...

The tension that had settled over Kaer Morhen had lifted and gone the very next morning.

Jaskier entered the dining hall to find Eskel talking to Lambert, who seemed to be feeling much better, and Vesemir looked a lot less grim as well.

“Good morning, dear wolves.” The bard didn’t hesitate in greeting his beloved’s family, taking a seat next to Eskel at the table. 

“Morning.” Eskel yawned in return, passing a plate of pastries that smelled strongly of cinnamon towards Jaskier. “Where’s the grouch? Sleeping in?”

“No, he’s not.” Geralt smirked when he entered the dining hall at that very moment. 

Jaskier smiled when his witcher reached out gently to ruffle his youngest brother’s hair. A silent sign of forgiveness.

“Damn, we almost had an excuse to split your breakfast.” Lambert teased the silver haired witcher.

Geralt chuckled. “Sorry to disappoint.” He apologized, sitting down next to Lambert as well.

It was as if yesterday had never even happened.


End file.
